


good clean livin'

by oh_no_oh_dear



Series: tungle dot hell [17]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Food, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), uh huh this my shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 14:59:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14834480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_no_oh_dear/pseuds/oh_no_oh_dear
Summary: Prompt: "Sambucky!" Nice and simple. I love that shit.





	good clean livin'

**Author's Note:**

> When I say "pre-Infinity War," I mean "pre-Thanos" basically. For real, fuck that dude.

  
  
    “Are you for real?” Sam asked. The palace attendant looked less than impressed as they nodded, gesturing again to the little path in the grass.   
  
    “It will be easy enough to find, but I can arrange for an escort,” they said, blandly polite.   
  
    “I think I’ll manage. Which place is his?”  
  
    “You’ll have no problem recognizing it.”  
  
They shared a Look and Sam burst out laughing, finally cottoning on. Yeah, just look for the white guy tending to goats. Fucking  _goats._  

As it turned out, Sam did get a little bit lost – but once the local kids figured out who he was looking for, they pointed him in the right direction. Sam sensed a little bit of condescension from them; after all, who didn’t know where the White Wolf lived? Honestly, foreigners were so dim.  
  
    “If Steve sent you, tell him I’m  _fine_ ,” Bucky called without turning around as Sam approached the small house. He was apparently deep in concentration, brushing one of the goats loosely gathered around the small piles of grass dotting the ground.   
  
    “Do I look like Rogers’ fucking messenger boy?” Sam called back, skirting around a small pile of goat shit. Apparently Barnes was really into the good clean country livin’ thing.   
  
    “Nah. You’re right. Sorry,” Bucky said, finally looking up. He looked ..  _rested._  That wasn’t a word that Sam ever thought he’d apply to the harangued-looking man, but apparently Wakanda was doing him some good.   
“It’s good to see you, Sam.”  
  
Sam, having finally walked up to where Bucky was tending to his goats, stopped short.   
“It is?”  
  
    “Yeah. You’re a little better than goats in terms of conversation.”  
  
    “Oh,  _fuck_  you,” Sam said lightly. He lowered himself to the ground and settled on the grass, and only tensing up a little as no less than 5 goats made their way over to nudge and snort at him.   
  
    “They’re just curious. Don’t have many visitors around here,” Bucky said said with a tinge of amusement in his voice.   
  
Sam gingerly pet the rough coat of the smallest one and relaxed a millimetre when it didn’t bite his hand clean off. He’d had his share of experiences with irritable farm animals in his childhood, so he wasn’t taking chances.   
  
    “Just thought I’d see what the fuck you were doing in the middle of a field,” Sam mused. He’d been to Wakanda a few times on reconnaissance missions that he only knew roughly 40% about, but hadn’t seen Barnes since he’d first been released from cryo.   
  
    “Mostly raising goats,” Bucky said matter-of-factly. He gave a Sam a smile that was tinged with just enough “ _fucking obviously”_  for Sam to pick up on it.   
  
    “You don’t get bored out here?” Now that the goats had sniffed and bleated at him, as well as figuring out that he didn’t have any tasty treats on him, they’d wandered back off to their grass. The sky was a bright, cloudless blue that made Sam a little dizzy with how badly he wished he could take off with his wings here. He couldn’t even imagine the view of the city and forests.  
  
    “I got books.”  
  
    “Books on raising goats?”  
  
Bucky gave him a sour look. “Just a couple. You gonna talk about goats the whole time?”  
  
    “Maybe.”  
  
    “Good. Great.” Bucky stood, dusting off his hands. He eyed Sam for a moment before his face did a weird thing; it  _lit up,_ which was a thing Sam was still getting used to seeing him do. Shit, if Wakanda was treating Barnes so well, maybe Sam could apply for a work visa or something.  
 “Wanna stay for lunch?” Bucky asked, still looking kind of intently at Sam.  
  
    “Is it goat?” Sam said, unable to help himself.  
  
Bucky looked scandalized. “These aren’t for  _eating,_ Wilson.”  
  
    “Nothing wrong with some curried goat, man. You too good for curried goat?”  
  
Bucky looked thoughtfully at the animals milling about near a cluster of trees. Sam clapped a companionable hand on his shoulder and grinned.   
“I’m jokin’, I’m not gonna eat your pets. Lead the way.”  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
Lunch was surprisingly good; slightly bitter leafy greens that had been steamed (and seasoned, which Sam was pleasantly surprised by) and fried fish that was admittedly bland, but nicely crisp on the outside.    
  
    “Can’t really get the balance right,” Bucky muttered, poking at his fish with a wrinkled nose. Sam  _hmm?_ ed to encourage him to go on; he was busy trying to get the perfect fish-to-vegetables ratio in his next bite.  
“Well, if I add the seasoning before, it all comes off in the oil, but if I add it after, it’s a damn saltlick.”  
  
Sam chewed thoughtfully, winced, and covered his mouth with his hand. After carefully retrieving the offending fish bone, he spoke: “You washing out the inside and everything?”  
  
    “Washing?”  
  
    “Yeah.”  
  
    “With soap?”  
  
    “Barnes. Barnes, please be joking. Please.”  
  
Bucky shrugged and gestured for Sam to go on, but a rueful smile was tugging at his lips.   
  
    “You clean out the whatever-whatever inside, and you wash it and then rub it down with lemon. Then salt, pepper, seasonin’, an– you didn’t do any of that, did you. I can tell from your face.”  
  
    “ _Lemon_ …” Bucky muttered. “Knew I forgot something.”  
  
    “Want me to write this shit down for you, gramps?”  
  
    “Fuck you.”  


* * * * * * * * * *   
  
    “Can I ask you a question?” Bucky asked. He settled on the floor next to where Sam was sitting cross-legged, watching the sun dip lower.   
  
    “Mhm.” Sam seemed distracted but not unhappy; he’d shucked off his light jacket and sneakers and was sitting in his jeans and tanktop, absently wiggling his toes in the little patch of grass that grew determinedly in front of the door.   
  
    “You ever eaten curried goat?”   
  
Sam gave him a sidelong look.  
“Yeah. Got a problem?”  
  
    “No, just … curious.” Bucky was silent for a little while, during which a handful of farmers returning home called a greeting as they passed his home. Sam was still looking at him. There was something about his posture that seemed at home, relaxed despite everything that had gotten them to this moment. He was kind of like that; the moments of calm in his life had been few and far between for years now, so he settled into them and took them for what they were. Bucky admired that. He was working on that whole relaxing-while-he-still-had-time thing, himself.   
  
    “My grandma’s from the Caribbean,” Sam finally said, seemingly satisfied that Bucky wasn’t trying to provoke anything. “She used to make stuff like that when me ‘n Sarah visited in the summers. Never really liked it until I got a little older.”  
  
    “What’s it taste like?” Bucky asked. His leg was pressed against Sam’s, but neither of them seemed keen on moving. Sam being here felt right, like he belonged here – not just in the physical space, but here with Bucky. Which… what?  _What?_  
  
    “Kinda… earthy? Like lamb, but stronger taste… Sarah was crazy about the stuff. Couldn’t really find the right ingredients in the States. Too expensive for my parents.”  
  
Bucky hesitated a little before nudging Sam’s knee with his own.   
“Do you… do you want one of my goats?”  
  
    “What?”  
   
    “If you’re, uh... if you want curry…”  
  
    “Holy shit, Barnes.”  
  
Bucky seemed to realise that that was a  _really weird thing to say_ , but he grinned awkwardly nonetheless. The laugh lines around his eyes were deeper, and his face didn’t carry the glazed blankness or tired scowl that it used to. It was really fucking nice, which was surprising to Sam because he was so used to lying to himself that he only cared about the guy in that friendly-coworker kind of way.   
  
    “A whole goat, eh? Save that one for the dowry.”  
  
    “Shut  _up_ , Wilson. I was trying to be hospitable.”  
  
    “I’d settle for coffee,” Sam smiled. He gestured to the goats, some of who were already dozing in the cooling evening air. “And name one after me, that’s good enough.”  
  
    “Two of them are already named Sam and Samantha,” Bucky said as he got to his feet. Sam took a moment to grasp what had just been said, but Bucky had already moved back into the house to bring up the lights as the sun went down.   
  
    “Bucky, what?”  
  
    “Oh, I got some mangoes. You want mangoes?”  
  
    “Barnes.”  
  
    “I’m gonna have some either way but I’ll cut one up for you too.”  
  
    “Bucky, why the fuck did you name your goats after me?”  
  
Bucky didn’t look up as he settled the fruits on a specialized spike attached to his cutting board. Then, he took his time rattling around in a kitchen drawer before pulling out a small mechanized peeler and positioning the cutting board against his hip to keep it steady.   
  
    “Nice setup,” Sam said, admiring the ingenious design of the assistive devices Bucky was using.   
  
    “I named ‘em after you because they’re stubborn but I like ‘em,” Bucky said in response. Sam scoffed.   
  
    “ _Steve_  is fuckin’ stubborn.”  
  
    “You think none of the goats are named after that asshole?”  
  
    “Point.”  
  
    “Want some?” Bucky asked, nodding down at the now-peeled mangoes. He had a bit of a challenge managing with one arm when the damned things started slipping around on the wooden cutting board, but he managed to carve thick, sweet slices off of the fruits.   
  
Then, he held out his hand to Sam. Sam stared at the juicy deep-yellow mango flesh gripped almost delicately between Bucky’s fingers. His fingers twitched because  _surely_  he was supposed to fucking take it from Bucky like a normal human being. But Bucky’s eyes were locked on his, and Sam didn’t think Barnes realised that his hand was shaking just a little.   
  
Sam moved towards Bucky, slowly enough to back off if needs be. Bucky’s breath hitched and he brought the piece of fruit up, closer to Sam’s face. So.  _Oh._  Okay. Right.   
  
    “Don’t smash that into my face,” Sam said, joking lightly to cover for the fact that his heart was hammering away a mile a minute.  
  
    “I won’t,” Bucky said, and his voice was so quiet that Sam found himself in the man’s space and Barnes had the nerve to be  _teasing_ , tracing the slice of mango across Sam’s lower lip with a feather-light touch and then leaning down to tentatively kiss him and  
  
_Oh._  Right. Okay.   
  
Sam pulled back slowly, his eyes fluttering open. Okay, that had been surprisingly smooth.   
  
    “You been practicing that move, Barnes?” he said shakily. Bucky just took a big smug bite of the same mango piece that he’d tempted Sam with. Sam took the opportunity to get revenge by kissing the taste off of his lips. It was heady, and sweet, and overwhelming in a way that reminded Sam of hot summers and cool salt water on his ankles, and Bucky felt it in his bones like sinking into his first unbothered sleep in over 70 years, and they both agreed that they needed to get to a bed sooner rather than later.   
  
* * * * * * * * * *   
  
    “Bucky.”  
  
    “Mmmm?” Bucky felt boneless, a little sticky and too hot, but sated and incredibly smug. He’d wrung some pretty impressive sounds out of Sam Wilson not an hour ago.   
  
    “You should get some chickens.”  
  
    “Wuh?”  
  
    “For eggs. So I can make my ma’s famous breakfast fry-up.”  
  
Bucky turned to look at Sam in the dim light from the crescent moon outside. “Baby, you do that thing with your tongue again and I’ll get a million chickens.”  
  
Sam smiled, and Bucky’s stomach did a funny swoop because that dorky little tooth gap was now adorable, and they were both naked, sure, but the moonlight was draped across the outline of Sam’s dark body like silk, and his eyes drank Bucky in like he was worthy and good and desirable. And that? That shit was all new.   
  
It felt pretty good.  
  
It felt even better to see Sam’s face light up when Bucky woke him up the next morning with a kiss and a basket of cheeping yellow chicks.  
  



End file.
